Ice Mauve Washed up Stroll on San Pasqual with A Pick-up Dance Last Ditch

It was not merry, the dance with slips

So tired of my mouthing nonsense lips

Soaring eagles in eyes tears on tastebuds

Take this crushing pile with girder thud

Mud makes a lady happy away from Tim

Spa man with ice in eyes and fancy talk dry

How many more words to get a million times?

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